The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(32)

“Zahir?”

She tried to keep her face and voice from trembling and assumed she must have succeeded as Zahir looked not in the least disturbed.

“Anna.” He nodded in distant greeting.

“I would like to come along, if I may.”

“As you like.”

Anna could feel a knot like a sob inching its way up her chest at the icy chill of his tone.

Matta looked from one to the other and his brows were knitted but he made no comment.

Anna fell into step with Matta between them, listening to Matta’s chatter and Zahir’s indulgent comments. As they reached the falconry, Matta ran forward and turned, his face turning from excitement to concern at the sight of both of them, close yet miles apart.

“Mom, what’s the matter with Ab Zahir and you? Have you told him off?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that Ab Zahir looks how I feel when you tell me off. You shouldn’t tell him off. He’s the sheikh.”

Anna felt her jaw drop with the injustice of his accusation but she was unable to form any words except look at Zahir whose eyes were full of laughter.

When she turned back to Matta, he had disappeared into the depth of the falconry leaving them alone.

“What is your western expression? Out of the mouth’s of babes?”

“Comes absolute, uninformed rubbish! I should tell you off because you’re behaving badly. Yes, I probably should have told you that Matta was your child but you know what? If I had my time again I’d do exactly the same thing. He was my child, his birth father wanted nothing to do with me and his adopted father was dying and I—”

“Yes, I know—”

“I had to do…” she paused mid-sentence, dumb-founded. “You know? What are you saying?”

“Matta has talked about your life together in New York. I know a little of what you went through. He’s talked about Abduallah and he’s talked about you. He’s a bright boy.”

“Of course he is. He has my genes.”

He smiled at her. “And mine.”

“And that must be what makes him so stroppy.”

“No it’s what makes him unable to trust unless that trust is earned.”

“He trusts me.”

His eyes flickered around her face, as if searching for something.

“And I want to, too.”

“Then try to understand.”

Anna turned and walked away abruptly before the tears she could feel welling behind her eyes began to fall. The walk quickened as soon as she was out of his sight and she ran blindly back into the palace, not stopping until she reached her office. She ran in and slammed the door closed on the world behind her, leant back against the door and sobbed for the man she wanted but who would make no effort to understand her.





She lay in bed that night, her hot eyes closed, the cool breeze upon her heated skin, her mind full of the light of the stars and the white flowers that lit the desert after rain. She only seemed to see the light when her eyes were closed. One day she hoped she’d open them and see such beauty. But for now, she dare not think of anything else but held on to that image while the emotions ebbed and flowed within.

It had been like this since she’d left him at the oasis. The hours passed in this ageless place moving like the sand, always shifting and changing, but always looking the same. She’d never been more acutely aware of the sensation of waiting. Waiting for understanding to come to him—or desire. Waiting for a miracle. But none came.

Was it all over so quickly? Had his passion been so slight that one night together had been sufficient to extinguish it?

Some time after midnight she fell into a restless doze, her dreams full of the light of desert blooms, her heart full of hope. Suddenly she awoke, her senses alert. She lay quite still, dazed, wondering for a moment where she was, wondering what had awoken her. There was no sound, no shape in the dark room. But she knew it was him. Silently he slipped into bed beside her.

“Anna.” She closed her eyes briefly, melting at his voice, and his touch as he sat on the bed beside her, his hands reaching out for her, pulling her to him. All her anger and hurt at his coldness was forgotten by the reality of his presence.

He pushed his hands through her hair and cradled her face for one long moment, before he brought his lips to hers, holding her still so he could take all that he wanted. She felt as if she’d been lost in the desert until that moment, dying inch by inch under the sweltering, lifeless sun.

She could not do other than to give him as much as he wanted—and more. As their mouths and tongues continued to search for satisfaction, in a restless, anguished passion of twisting, turning, pressure of lips against lips, of body against sliding body, she felt his heart beat against hers, pressing against her whole being. Her body felt alight with power, raised by electricity, shimmering with awareness, shot through with need.